Matter of Trust, Matter of Us
by jibber59
Summary: (ATF Universe) Six months on the team, and no one was still entirely sure just how, or if, Ezra Standish fit in. (rating due to adult language)
1. Chapter 1

"I swear to you Wilmington, if you don't drop that weapon right now, you ain't gonna like the consequences."

"This is not a weapon Vin, it's a basting brush."

"In your hands, that's a weapon. Step away from the grill, and nobody gets hurt."

Buck reluctantly stepped back, but not before slathering more sauce on one of the steaks. "That's my dinner Vin – you can't stop me from fixing it up right."

"Ah Buck, you're not even gonna know there is meat under there with all that fiery sauce on top." JD teased.

"You ruinin' these fine hunks of Texas cattle? Ought to be ashamed of yourself." Josiah took the brush from Buck's hand, looking down at the sizzling meal. "I'd say these are pretty much as close to perfect as the can get. Nathan, you got the rest of the dinner ready in there?" he called into the house.

The patio door slid open as Nathan deftly pushed it with one foot while balancing bowls of potato salad and coleslaw, along with his own bottle of beer. "Hold your horses Josiah. I only have two hands."

"And neither is holding a beer for me. That's just plain inconsiderate my friend." Nathan's glare, while not up to the standard set by Chris Larabee, could still be quite effective, and Buck gave a calming smile as he took the food and set it on the table.

"Chris is bringing the beers. You got everything off the grill Vin?" The sound of the platter on the table was his answer, as Vin then reached across, grabbing Buck's plate. A moment later it was set back in place with a moderately blackened steak taking up most of the surface.

"Don't know why you insist on doing that to a perfectly innocent hunk of meat." he mumbled, taking his seat while spearing a more traditionally prepared serving.

"You all just don't understand what Barbeque is really supposed to be."

"I'm from Texas Buck – I know barbeque. What you have there is the charcoal."

"You guys gonna fight or eat?" Chris handed beers around the table, putting what was left from the box into the tub of ice sitting in the shade.

"See no reason we can't do both."

"Well I do Buck. This is going to be a nice peaceful dinner. We've all earned it and I fully intend to enjoy it."

"Guess there has been enough tension in the last 24 hours to do us for a while." Josiah agreed.

For a few minutes there was nothing but the sound of knives scrapping on plates, and the occasional grunt of satisfaction. Eventually, JD broke the silence.

"I know we ain't supposed to talk work at the table, but did any of you know Ezra could shoot like that?"

"Can't say that I did. I knew he was good. I've seen his scores from the range. But that was some kind of fancy trick shot he pulled off."

"Yeah, to hit the mark square on when shooting from the ground – you don't luck into that." Vin agreed with Chris, sounding genuinely impressed.

JD was still curious. "What about that little gun of his? Up his sleeve like that? Never seen anything like it. It was such a bit of a thing."

"Be grateful he had it kid, or Chris wouldn't be sitting here with us. And you wouldn't be wiping corn off your chin right now if he hadn't taken down that guy on the catwalk when the shooting started. I never even saw the guy up there." JD took Buck's less than subtle hint and grabbed a napkin.

"I'd seen the derringer rigging before, one night when we were sitting on stake out. He was setting it up while he went on about some previous undercover job he'd done. Something about a cult I think." Josiah answered. "But never saw it in use. Something to behold."

"Is it even regulation?" Nathan wondered.

"Don't care. He kept me and the kid here alive, so I don't intend to put anything questioning it or him in the report the Judge sees." Chris looked around at the others, making sure they all understood the message.

"Nothing out of the ordinary that I saw there." Buck agreed. "Unless you count being laid out by a kick to the gut and whack to the head, and still managing to pull your weapon, fire a shot behind your back with a busted up hand **and** hitting the target square between the eyes, dropping him before he can kill your team leader. If you do count that, then yeah, that was all a little out of the ordinary."

"That part can go in the report. Along with my recommendation for a special commendation."

Josiah shook his head. "He won't like that Chris. The boy hates having attention drawn to himself."

JD almost chocked on the mouthful of beer he had. "Hates attention? Ezra Standish? Do you know a different Ezra than the one I see every day Josiah?"

"Kid's right on this one Sanchez." Buck agreed. "All you got to do is listen to the way he talks. All them fancy words. And the clothes. I've seen peacocks don't look as fancy as he does most of the time."

"That's all on the outside Buck. Camouflage. Keeps you distracted from the real deal." Vin added.

Chris leaned back, looking at his sharpshooter. "That really what you think?" He added Josiah to the question. "What you both think?"

"Chris, the man has been with us for almost 6 months now, and I don't think any one of us know more than we did the first day he walked through the door."

"You just finished telling us you guys talked that night you were on stake out."

"Surface talk Nathan. The kind of conversation the keeps you from really getting to know someone. He talked about jobs and arrests. Nothing personal at all. And I'm betting he hasn't told any of you much more."

"Now that you mention it, he does seem to keep his life pretty quiet. Hell, I couldn't even tell you what the "P" in Ezra P. Standish stands for."

"If I had to guess Buck," Chris spoke, "I'd say private."

"Yeah – maybe too private." Chris looked to Nathan. "Anybody keeping the quiet that long is probably hiding something."

"Don't start with that again Nathan."

"You ever gonna tell us why he left the FBI. We've all heard the rumors. Bribes, sleeping – literally – with the enemy. Lot of serious accusations there Chris."

"And not a shred of proof to back any one of them up."

"So, why'd he leave?"

"Because he couldn't trust the men he was supposed to be working with. They left him hanging out to dry once to often."

"What do you mean left him?"

"Just what I said Vin. He was supposed to have back up on a sting he was running and nobody was there when things went bad. Spent 6 days in the hospital recovering from a beating and 4 stab wounds."

"Shit – that ain't right."

"No kidding Buck. After that he just handed in his badge and walked away. Judge approached me the next day about asking him to join this team. Won't deny that it took some convincing before I went along with it. Took more convincing to get him on board."

"And then he turned around and all but abandoned us on that first job – hanging back the way he did."

"Wasn't hanging back, was he Chris?" Larabee was pleased to see at least one of the men had figured it out and was a bit surprised it was JD. Looking around, he saw the truth dawning on the others as well.

"He hung back to make sure he wasn't abandoned again. Still close enough to move in when we needed him, but keeping his own back covered too."

"Kinda hard to blame him in light of what had happened." Nathan conceded.

"Say what you will about his style, he has never once left us hanging – certainly not the way he was treated."

"Think he's ever going to come to trust us Chris? Open up a bit. Maybe even accept an invitation out her to dinner?"

"Can't really say Vin. He's got a lot to get past before he's gonna be…" Chris stopped in mid thought. They all turned to look at him as the man went pale.

"Chris, you ok? You choking on something?" Nathan made a move toward their leader but stopped at the raised hand.

"I am one seriously fucking stupid son of a bitch."

Vin caught on first. "You never asked him? Six months and you never asked him out here to Saturday dinner?"

"Well I don't recall hearing any of you make the suggestion?"

"Never invited him to Inez's place for beer either." JD realized.

"Shit – not even to a movie." Josiah added.

"He just never seemed open to an invite of any kind. Doesn't even look up from his desk when we talk about lunch or dinner plans at work. Just goes along with whatever we order it most of the time." Nathan leaned back in his seat. "Damn, I don't even know what he'd want on a pizza – if he even likes pizza."

"Everybody likes pizza Nathan – but I get what you're saying." JD looked almost broken hearted. "We never gave him a chance."

"Don't suppose it matters if I point out he never asked to be invited along to any of this." Buck questioned.

"After the shunning he's been through? Don't think it would even dawn on him to suggest it."

"More than that." They all turned to Chris, suddenly deeply concerned by the tone in his voice. "It ain't my place to go into details, but let's just say he didn't exactly have the kind of childhood that taught him a lot about making friends. There's some kind of questionable child rearing habits his mother was into."

"He was abused?" JD sickened at the thought.

"Not the way you're thinking kid, but he didn't exactly have what anyone would call a warm and supportive family life."

"So, no family to speak of, no close friends – or friends at all for that matter. Left his last job with a cloud over his head and traitorous co-workers applauding his departure. Gee – wonder why he's so reluctant to open up to us?"

"Sarcasm isn't attractive on you Josiah." Chris glared. "Instead of detailing the problem don't you think we'd be better spending our time on a solution."

"I got one." Vin stood from the table and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To get him. Bring him out here."

"Well, there's a couple problems there. First, you can't kidnap him. He doesn't want to come you can't force him."

"Fine – I'll go **invite** him."

"Go where?" Buck asked.

"What?"

"You know where he lives?"

Vin stopped with his hand on the door. "Oh shit. That really ain't right. Six months and I don't have a fucking clue where the man lives." He looked to the others, who, except for Chris, were all shaking their heads, acknowledging their ignorance as well.

"You know Chris – you must know."

"Yeah, I do. But we can't just barge in like a herd of wild horses. In the first place, he was hurt in that arrest. He's got cracked ribs and a mild concussion, so stampeding in and hauling him out here is likely not a good idea."

JD was stunned. "He didn't let on that he was hurt bad."

"He wouldn't. Afraid we'd make a fuss." Chris said.

"More likely afraid we wouldn't" Josiah corrected. "From what you're saying, from what he's been through, he doesn't expect anyone to care, but I'm betting it still rips him up every time he's right about that."

"That sounds like the profiler in you talking."

"Maybe, Chris, but it's also the guy who should have been paying more attention."

"Don't blame yourself. He's had years to perfect the art of keeping things to himself."

"Hurt and alone. All the more reason for us to be checking up on him."

Chris looked around at his team. No, at most of his team. There was one man missing. One man who up until this moment hadn't been fully seen as part of that dynamic. The time had come to correct that.

 _ **tbc**_

 _M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7_


	2. Chapter 2

Ninety minutes later two vehicles pulled up outside the condo where Ezra lived. They detoured past the office so Chris could get the address from the agent's file. He'd also picked up the spare set of keys that he'd insisted each of his men leave with him for emergencies. He wasn't sure this qualified, but wanted to be prepared. They'd had to use GPS to get there since he'd never even driven by before.

There was no answer on the first buzz up to the unit. Chris waited about 30 seconds and tried again. Buck's impatience had him ready to grab the keys from Chris when a cautious voice came over the speaker. "Yes?"

"Ezra – it's Chris."

There were a few seconds of silence. "Is there a problem Mr. Larabee? Has something happened?"

"No Ezra – well I mean yes – something happened. You got busted up and I wanted to make sure you were doing ok."

"You have heard of this wonderful new invention called the telephone Mr. Larabee? It is very useful for contacting someone to inquire as to the state of his health."

"Ezra, are we really going to have this conversation over the intercom?"

"No, as there is no further conversation to be had. I am following doctor's orders to rest and avoid strenuous activity. I have had no alcohol, am not driving and I am studiously avoiding activity which might worsen my headache. In short, I am fine. Thank you for your concern. Please, go back to your dinner plans."

The six looked guiltily at each other. Ezra knew exactly where they'd all been. And why wouldn't he. It wasn't exactly a secret.

"Ezra, I have your key with me. Don't make me use it."

Several seconds of silence followed, ended by the click of the intercom disconnecting. Just as Chris was about to curse and reach for the keys, they heard the buzz of the door lock being released. They were silent as they crowed into the elevator to climb to Ezra's floor.

"He's not expecting all of us, so for God's sake go easy on this. He may not be happy about it."

"May not be? Chris, he sounded ready to take off your head just for asking about him. He's gonna go ballistic when he sees all of us."

"So, let him Buck. Might do him some good to let loose a bit. He keeps everything way to bottled up."

"You still wearing your profiler hat there Josiah?" The big man just shrugged.

They stepped off the elevator, quietly making there way to Ezra's apartment. The door had been left ajar for them.

"Please gentlemen, come in before you all frighten the neighbours." Ezra stood looking out the doorway to his balcony. He didn't turn as they entered.

"All? You knew I wasn't alone?"

"Saturday night and no job lined up. Dinner at the ranch is the norm. Mr. Wilmington likely has a date lined up for later in the evening, and I am sure Mr. Jackson has plans with his lovely lady as well. I am unaware of any current romantic entanglements for the rest of you men, so your plans are more nebulous, although I am certain Mr. Sanchez will again make an early night of it so that he can assist at the community prayer circle he'll be attending tomorrow morning."

They stood staring at the Ezra, who had yet to turn to look at any of them.

"How did you…?" JD was to stunned to be able to finish the question.

"My observation skills are paramount to keeping me alive for these many years Mr. Dunne. It would not serve my best interest to be unaware of any detail that goes on around me which may factor into my decisions. Knowing where you all are, what you are doing, may be facts I need at hand."

"You do know that one little speech about our plans contained about twice as much information as all of us combined know about you." Josiah stated.

"It is reassuring for me to know my barriers are intact."

"Your barriers are dangerous Ezra. We didn't even know where you lived. What if you'd been in some kind of trouble? You were hurt today."

"That, Mr. Jackson, is what 911 was developed for. An excellent emergency service, and given the part of town I live in, quite prompt response times. A concern you should have Mr. Tanner, given that your neighbourhood has a far slower response for emergency services."

"We can discuss my living situation some other time Ezra. That's not why we came."

"True. You ostensibly came to ensure that my concussion and other injuries had not worsened. I assure you I remain functional. Yes, my vision is a bit blurred, and the headache persists, but that should clear in the next day or two. As long as I avoid deep breaths my ribs are fine, and I promised the attending physician that I would not lift anything heavy with my weakened shoulder or bruised hand for several days. So, all in all, a clean bill of heath."

"Don't suppose I could get you to look me in the eye when you say that?" Nathan asked.

"Seriously? You can't for a moment believe I would be incapable of bluffing on this if I needed to Mr. Jackson."

"Don't doubt it for a minute. But I would like to see that your pupils are reacting evenly and properly to the light."

"Ah – once a healer, always a healer. I have been fully examined, and do not need any additional poking and prodding, though I thank you for your concern."

"Turn around and let him look at you Standish. That's an order."

Ezra sighed softly, then spun to face them. It was a misjudgement on his part, as the movement brought on a wave of vertigo. He felt himself tipping to one side and reached out to find something to keep him from falling. He hadn't expected it to be hands gripping onto him leading him, or more accurately carrying him, to the nearby recliner.

"Ezra lean forward. Put your head down. You'll feel better. It'll pass in a minute."

"My apologies Gentlemen. This is precisely the scene I was attempting to avoid."

"You got your bell rung Pard – spinning rooms and losing your lunch is all part of the deal."

"I will presume those words were meant to be comforting to me Mr. Tanner, and will accept them as such."

"Course they were Ezra."

Ezra cautiously lifted his head, looking at the face staring back at him. He could read nothing but sincerity in the look Vin gave him.

"Then I do thank you Mr. Tanner." He leaned back into the seat, closing his eyes. He opened them a minute later when he felt a glass being pressed into his hand.

"Nathan always says we should keep hydrated when we be hurt, so I figured you needed this." JD looked a bit embarrassed by his actions. Again, Ezra was surprised by the honest concern in the young man's eyes. Saying nothing, he sipped at the cool water.

"I would offer you all a seat, but as you see my accommodations are not really designed for company."

For the first time the men looked around their surroundings. To describe the place as sparingly decorated was an understatement. Aside from the chair Ezra was in, there was only one other seat in room; a caned wooden rocker that rested in the corner. A thin layer of dust and the pristine condition of the carpet under it showed that it was rarely, if ever, used. A side table next to the recliner was the only other furnishing there. There was no dining room furniture to speak of. Just a simple cabinet that housed some wine glasses and books. A small bar stood in the opposite corner, with a few more glasses and a small but expensive collection of liquor on top.

Two stools were tucked under the counter that served as a kitchen wall. The countertops were empty of anything but a coffee maker.

"I rarely entertain." Ezra spoke in answer to the unvoiced comments.

"Ezra?"

"Yes Mr. Dunne."

"I never got the chance earlier, this morning I mean. Well I never go the chance to say thanks."

"There was no reason for you to say anything Mr. Dunne."

"You saved my life Ezra."

"I did my job. Nothing more than I get so handsomely paid for."

"You got beat up and kicked 'cause you shot Merino instead of protecting yourself. Thanks is the least I can say."

"It isn't necessary, but if it makes you feel better, then you are welcome."

"Guess I owe you one of those too."

"The same response goes to you Mr. Larabee. I was of the impression the apprehension, or in this case, termination of the miscreants was a significant part of my job description. I was doing nothing beyond that."

"You were laid out on the floor, busted up and you fired as shot behind your back with a gun hidden in your sleeve and saved Chris. I'd say that was a little more than a normal day at work." Buck challenged.

"Your interpretation is something I have no control over. But again, if it makes you feel better about things, you are welcome. Now, gentlemen, if your consciences have all been soothed..."

"Damn it Ezra, this ain't about our consciences. Yeah, we screwed up some, and wanted to make sure you was alright-"

"I would have to say that was the very definition of a guilty conscience Mr. Wilmington. And trust me, it is a subject on which I am an expert. Or would be if I actually had a conscience."

"This isn't all on us Ezra. And what's with the 'mister' crap. 6 months we work together and unless it's part of the operation, you never once use our names."

"Larabee, Wilmington, Tanner, Jackson, Sanchez and Dunne. Correct me if I am wrong, but those are your names, are they not?"

"You ever here us referring to each other that way Ezra? We ever call you Mr. Standish?" Josiah asked. "You have to stop putting up so many barriers around yourself son."

Ezra's head snapped up quickly enough to bring on another bout of vertigo, but he ignored it. "Don't ever call me that."

Josiah took a stepped back, startled by the venom on the young agents face. The look disappeared almost as quickly as it surfaced, but the damage had been done.

"He didn't mean anything by it Ezra. Just his way of talking. Calls me that sometimes too." JD tried to sooth the waters.

"He's been known to call me worse." Buck added.

"My apologies Mr. Sanchez. I realize you meant nothing by it. It is – well suffice to say it is a term I would prefer not to hear again."

"I'll do my best, but it is kind of a bad habit I have." He smiled, and Ezra made the effort to return the action, though it never reached his eyes.

"Gentlemen, I truly am fatigued by the events of the last few days, and while I do appreciate your actions here, I think it would be best for all parties if you were to return to the ranch to enjoy the rest of your evening."

"Can't do that. Wouldn't enjoy it much sitting there worrying about you." Chris stated. "So, you're just gonna have to come with us."

"I will do no such thing. There is no need to worry and I have no intention of leaving my home."

"Ezra, no offense meant, but this isn't a home – it's a hotel room. I've seen more personalization in a prison cell. Now what you need…"

"What I need, Mr. Wilmington, is to be left alone." He stood quickly, too quickly, and again swayed as he stood. Nathan gently forced him back into the seat. "OK, here's the deal. Since you seem to know so much about us, I guess you know I used to be a medic. That gives me some authority when it comes to the care and well being of the team. So, you either come out to the ranch with us, or we send you back to the hospital for observation. With that goes at least 2 weeks off work. You pick."

"I could resign and save us all the inconvenience and futility of this exercise."

"You could, but you won't" Chris spoke with certainty. "You're not the type to run away from problems."

"Mr. Larabee, clearly you don't understand me at all."

"Oh, I do Ezra. More than you think. Buck, go find him some clothes. See if he's got something suitable for the ranch, maybe riding?"

"Oh, dear Lord."

 _ **tbc**_

 **M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7**


	3. Chapter 3

Ezra reluctantly settled into a seat in the den. He had to admit the surroundings, while not his style, were a step up in terms of warmth from his home. Not that he wasn't comfortable there, but the others had been right. It wasn't the most inviting atmosphere.

The ranch was a different story. Everything about the place was welcoming. It showed a side of Chris Larabee that Ezra had suspected, but hadn't seen. While he hadn't been given a full tour of the place, he'd seen what would be his room for the weekend. Clearly, it was designed for guests, providing all the comforts anyone would need: bed, dresser, chair and a small but full bathroom. More than that though was the feeling of the room. Decorated to reflect the style of the home, with western themed photos and paintings. Not personal, but sufficient to personalize the room. His own home, where he'd been for months, was a sterile environment in comparison. He'd walked past a couple of other rooms in the house similarly furnished.

Sliding patio doors showed him the huge expanse of the remainder of the property. A large barn was the closest building, with several smaller structures near by. Chris had approached him when he stopped to admire the view.

"Ever done any riding Standish?"

"I am familiar with the equestrian arts."

"As observer or participant?" Chris allowed a small smile come to his face as he once again marveled at his agent's ability to answer a question without giving any information.

"Both."

"Well, I've got a few horses back there it you're feeling up to going for ride tomorrow. Buck and Vin both keep their own horses here, and the others have each more or less adopted one of mine as there own."

"It would appear then that the opportunities are spoken for."

"Nah," Buck wandered into the conversation. "You can take out any of them that strike your fancy. And Chris has got a couple new ones looking for someone to call their own."

"Only one of those would work Buck. The mare, Spitfire, she'd be fine."

"Spitfire?" Buck interrupted. "Don't blame me – the were named when I bought them. Anyway, she'd be fine, but I doubt you'd enjoy riding the other one Ezra. Beast has a temperament like I've never seen on a horse."

"Send you flying?"

Chris nodded. "Twice. Strangest thing. You can get the damn thing all set – saddle, bridle, the whole deal, but the minute you mount up…hellfire and brimstone. Don't know that it can be tamed. I think the got the names wrong. That's the one that should be name Spitfire instead of Chaucer. What kind of name is that for a horse?"

"Maybe that's why he's so pissed off."

Ezra looked out to the barn again. "I would say it was a name suited to a noble creature. I don't doubt there is more to that animal than there would appear to be on the surface." He strolled away from the view and headed to the den.

Chris watched him. "If that's true," he said to Buck, "then Ezra and that horse have something in common."

Now, sitting watching the rest of the team, Ezra sipped at his sparkling water. The others moved about trying to appear relaxed and at ease, and failing miserably. Clearly plans had been changed, with Nathan and Buck remaining at the ranch house, both indicating they had no where else to be for the evening.

Ezra considered simply announcing he was tired and didn't feel up to socializing, but he feared that would generate more concern that he wanted focused on him. On the other hand, the not so covert observations kept him under tight scrutiny as well. He finally came to the conclusion that his best option, realistically his only option, was to allow the impeding scenario to play itself out. Based on past experience, that likely meant he would be looking for new employment in the not to distant future. Perhaps New York, or Chicago. Boston had potential as well, although the realization of winter in those locations once again made his thoughts turn to warmer climates. Sadly, there were too many memories in too many southern cities for any of them to appeal to him any longer. He wondered briefly what Hawaii might offer him before his thoughts were interrupted.

"Mind if we join you Ezra?" Chris asked, taking a seat before getting an answer. And so it begins, Ezra thought"

"It is your home sir, by all means, avail yourself of it's comforts."

"You couldn't just once say yes?" Buck asked with a smile on his face.

"I do have a reputation to consider." Damn, he thought to himself. That really wasn't the best phrase to use under the circumstances. He was relieved when the others seemed to let it pass.

"Wanted to ask you about something you said back at your place." Josiah began.

"I said a great many things, most of which you chose to ignore. Why do I feel the sentence you are focusing on will be something I regret uttering?"

"I think there are few things you said that might fit that statement. I know there are any number we've said over the last 6 months that we'd like to take back."

"I can think of none that require retraction."

"Really? Well maybe then it is more a matter of what we didn't say."

Before Ezra could reply Chris joined the conversation. "For instance, I've been real stupid about not saying 'care to join us for a drink after work' or 'why don't you join us out at the ranch for dinner Ezra?'. You know we come out here most Saturday or Sunday nights, depending on what we're working on. Isn't always all of us, but usually at least a couple. I guess I just assumed you knew about it and weren't interested. That it wasn't your style. Never even dawned on me that maybe you thought you weren't welcomed here, but I'm thinking now that was the case."

"A gentleman never goes where he hasn't been invited Mr. Larabee. One of many lessons I learned at an early age."

"That when you learned how to keep that poker face on you, no matter what? Don't think I've ever seen anyone so good at hiding himself behind a phony smile."

"As I said, I learned many lessons at an early age."

"OK, let's take care of that one right now. Anytime you want to come out here Ezra, you are welcome to. That means when the whole gang is here, or even if you just want to take a drive outta the city some time. Come out for ride."

"There's a cabin back in the rear of the property if you really want to escape reality for a few days. We've all used it a few times. Good place to put your head on straight."

"My head is precisely where it needs to be, Mr. Dunne, but I understand the thought. Thank you for the offer Mr. Larabee. I shall keep that option in mind. Now, if that is all for the evening…"

"Sit back Ezra, we've only just started." There was no room for debate in Chris's tone, so Ezra leaned back into his seat.

"The same deal goes for anytime you hear us talking about going out for drinks, or any other social kind of stuff. You want to come along, you don't have to wait for a special invite. That's not the way we do things."

"Thank you for clarifying that Mr. Wilmington. I shall be sure to take advantage of the opportunity on the next occasion circumstances permit."

"Does that mean you'll join us or not?"

"That means I will let circumstances guide my decision at the appropriate time. That has always been my way, and I don't see it changing in the immediate future Mr. Tanner."

"Mind if I get back to the question I wanted to ask you when we started this discussion." Josiah requested. Ezra kept his sigh internalized and turned his head toward his interrogator of the moment. "You claimed back at your place you had no conscience. What would possess you to say such a thing?"

"Did I make such a claim? A momentary lapse in my focus, I assure you. What man would admit to having no conscience? To label himself as a sociopath, or worse?"

Josiah said nothing, not shifting his gaze from Ezra. The younger man risked a glance around the room, already knowing all eyes were on him. Well, he had started down the path. No reason not to see it through to the end.

"In order to be without conscience, one would have had to have been raised with no concept of morality or ethics. No sense of right or wrong. One would have to have been raised to believe that the end justifies the means, and to that end, that the only outcome of significance is self-satisfaction. He would care for nothing but his own best interest. Concern himself only with matters that advance his agenda. Such a man would have no place in decent society."

"Such a man wouldn't have taken out a shooter and left himself open to getting beat up – or worse. He wouldn't have left himself lying in the open while protecting a teammate." Chris challenged.

"He would have if such actions made him look good to his colleagues. Advanced his effort to seek status in the group, and in so doing cement himself within an organization."

"It's all about the motivation – right?"

"Precisely Mr. Sanchez. It is unwise to ascribe motivation to an action without truly knowing the man behind it."

"Ezra, I gotta say, I do hope to have the opportunity to meet your mother some day." Chris hid his smile when Ezra lost the poker face for just a moment. "She must be some piece of work to have done all that to you. Really hope I can have the chance to let her know exactly what I think of her."

"Why would you elect to bring my mother to the conversation Mr. Larabee? I was simply providing the scenario that might create a man with no conscience. Is that not where this conversation began?"

Chris stood slowly. Five of the men in the room brace themselves for what was going to come next. Ezra had never witnessed a Larabee lecture in full force. It happened rarely, and was a tirade not to be ignored.

"You listen Standish, and you listen closely. I know you've been treated like shit in the past for no good reason. You had a lousy childhood and never really seemed to be able to catch a break. Well guess what? You aren't the only one. Everybody in this room has had to deal with less than ideal circumstances at some point in his life. That's what makes us what we are. And when you put us together, what we are is the best damn team the ATF has. The fact the we asked you to be on the team wasn't a fluke and it sure wasn't a mistake. Leastwise I didn't think so at the time. You are the best undercover operative around. Hands down, no debate. And maybe that's because of all the stuff you were talking about. All the crap you went through. Maybe that's what makes you good."

Ezra'd had enough. He pushed himself to his feet and stepped up to his opponent. "You cannot honestly be feeding me some kind of 'whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger' bullshit – are you MISTER Larabee? You have no idea of what has almost killed me. Literally almost killed me. Family members who saw me as a pawn for their cons and schemes. Friends, for lack of a more fitting term, who imagined I had wealth and privilege because of the way I spoke and dressed, and who abandoned me in a heartbeat on learning the veracity of my situation. Co-workers – lawmen – who left me to the whims of criminals. Colleagues who elected to believe rumors because they too could see only the surface. Do you think I have never made the effort to have friends? To form bonds with the people I share my day with, into whose hands I often have put my life. Every blessed time the effort has exploded in my face. Has left me battered and bruised and isolated in ways you cannot imagine, despite what you all have dealt with yourself. It all lead me to the simple, obvious conclusion that I am not meant to have friends, not meant to be a part of any such social convention. That, sir, is my reality." He pushed past stunned men, striding quickly toward the door without looking back. His head was spinning, from the emotional outburst as well as the vertigo that threatened to send him to his knees. He reached the front door and pulled it open, not even beginning to know where he would go. He had no car, no way home, and he was miles from access to an easy way out. He hoped his cell phone would give him the chance to call for a cab, but given the day he'd been having, was not optimistic. He kept walking, getting some distance down the drive before he stopped walking. The adrenalin had worn off, the dizziness was overtaking him, and he quite literally had no idea what to do next. He knew one of the men was closing in on him, but dared not turn to see who it was.

"You think you might want to come back in for a bit Ezra?"

"No, I don't think that would be a good idea Mr. Tanner."

"You have a better one?"

"To be honest, no."

"Come on then. Guest room is set for you. I'll take you around the side so you don't have to listen to anything more from the others. I can give you a ride home in the morning if that's what you want."

"Is there a reason that cannot be done tonight?"

"Yup – you're in no shape for a long drive, and I've been drinking. That means we stay put."

Ezra turned slowly to ensure he stayed on his feet. "Would I be able to impose on you in the morning to go take me into the office so that I may leave my resignation for the judge?"

"Nope."

Ezra stopped walking. "Nope? I am fairly certain Mr. Larabee would appreciate the action as well."

"Hell Ezra. If we quit every time we had a fight with Chris or each other the team woulda busted up years ago. We wouldn't have made it through the first week. Well, maybe Nathan and JD would, but not too much longer."

He took Ezra by the arm and gently prodded him to start walking again. Reaching the porch, he directed him to a seat. "Ezra, I know it seems off to you, but you got to understand. Chris gets mad because he cares about this team. And whether you believe it or not, you're a part of the team."

"Why?"

Vin paused, puzzled. "Well, like he said, you are the best at what you do, and we like working with the best. And, also like he said, all of us are a little less than perfect, so you fit right in."

"No Mr. Tanner. I meant, why do you trust me to be part of this? I don't have the record to substantiate such belief."

"Ezra, in the 6 months you've been with us you have never given us cause to doubt your commitment. And as far as we can tell, you never gave anyone cause before that either. And, since you haven't given reason not to trust you, we do. Better question might be why don't you trust us?"

Ezra knew the others were once again close enough to hear his answer. He didn't need to see, or even hear them; he felt their presence. And, if they were foolish enough to trust him, he could, for once, risk giving an honest answer.

"Because I don't know how to do that anymore." He sat back on the chair and closed his eyes, allowing the exhaustion to overtake him. "I have no trust left to give."

 ** _tbc_**

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7


	4. Chapter 4

Eight weeks passed since fight night, as Chris now thought of that Saturday. Vin had kept his promised to Ezra, driving him home the following morning with no further discussion, and no resolution. There had been anxious moments on the Monday as they waited to see if they still had seven members on the team. A phone call shortly after 9 had all of them jumping at the sound of the ringer. Chris took the call in his office, and came out less than a minute later.

"Ezra says he's still feeling the effects of the concussion. Said he'll be in Wednesday, which pretty much lines up with what the doctor told us to expect."

Nathan nodded. "Glad he had the sense to stay put. Even Wednesday is pushing it, but we'll just have to keep on an eye on things."

They all went about the routine business of the day, finishing up the reports on the weekend's arrests. Chris stared at his write-up for the better part of the morning, trying to determine the best way to summarize Ezra's role. Josiah had been right – there was no way the operative would want attention focused on his actions. Scrutiny had not ended well for him in the past. And the less said about that hidden weapon, the better. He finally managed to figure out a way to make sure credit was given, without making it sound nearly as impressive as it was. He also made a note to himself to review JDs report. The young agent was still so grateful for Ezra's rescue that it was likely the southerner would be written up as one level down from Superman in that report. Editing was going to be needed.

The team was at full status by the middle of the week. No one said anything about the weekend events, and only a few brief questions were directed to Ezra on his health. None of that fooled him for a second. He was aware of the covert glances being sent his way. They tensed every time he stood, and watched the way he walked and moved like the mother hen's they all were. Given the fact the only work any of them were doing at the moment was research and preparation for the next case, the closed quarters of the office became claustrophobic quickly. Ezra had never been so glad to see a Friday afternoon arrive in his life.

"We're all heading out to Inez's tavern for a bit of dinner Ezra. Care to join us?"

He'd suspected this was coming, and a small part of him was glad the question hadn't come from JD. The youthful enthusiasm was surprisingly difficult to ignore, and saying no to him made Ezra feel a bit like a man who had just kicked a puppy.

"While I do appreciate the offer Mr. Tanner, I feel such an excursion might be a bit more than I am ready to handle. I am quite certain Mr. Jackson will agree with my determination that recuperation is more important than libation to me at this point."

"Well, I won't argue that you should be taking it easy for a few more days, and avoiding too much alcohol, but dinner with friends likely wouldn't be excessive Ezra."

"Nevertheless, I shall regretfully decline your offer gentlemen, with gratitude." Ezra stood and left quickly. JD started to call after him, but was silenced by Buck laying a hand on his arm.

"Save your breath kid. He ain't ready yet."

"When's he gonna get ready Buck?"

"Maybe never, but that won't stop us from asking him."

The following week played out in much the same manner. Chris tried to entice Ezra out to the farm, using the horses as bait.

"You never did get a good look at that one that just refuses to be broken." _Kind of like you_ , Chris added to himself.

"While I appreciate the offer Mr. Larabee, I have already made plans for the weekend."

"Got yourself a hot date there Ezra?" Buck gave a juvenile leer and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at the idea.

"Suffice to say I am expecting a weekend that will not involve the need for a cold shower Mr. Wilmington." _At least not after the plumber who was coming on Saturday fixed the water heater,_ he thought.

He avoided any invitation for the following weekend by implying he had out of town plans. In order to avoid lying to them, Ezra took a road trip that went nowhere, but passed the time for him.

Before a fourth such weekend avoidance incident came to pass, Ezra was back undercover, making team plans irrelevant.

He spent five long weeks undercover, setting up a pawnshop and establishing himself as a man who asked no questions, and was always in the market for interesting and unusual items. A few well-placed rumors circulated by informants soon had gun dealers approaching him for business.

Chris, Buck and JD sat in a surveillance van up the street from the shop. Josiah had set up his base in the alley behind the building, establishing himself as the neighbourhood's newest homeless addition. Nathan was working as a short order cook in the diner across the street, and Vin oversaw all of it from a rooftop perch near by.

The least appealing part of the assignment was in the company they were keeping. Not the gun runners, petty thieves and drug dealers they encountered, but the other Federal agencies involved in the operation. The DEA had a man working on a bust of a nearby drug lab, and just a couple of days earlier they'd learned the FBI was monitoring some organized crime activity, which turned out to be directly connected to their gun runners. Chris had cursed out every power he could when the demand was made for co-operation, but then the assorted agency directors got involved, nothing could be done.

The worst part of all of this was that Ezra was still unaware of the newest wrinkle. There had been no safe way to let him know that he was back under the watchful eye of the same organization that had betrayed him less than a year earlier. Josiah had tried to find a chance to talk to him, but was never able to get into the shop when Ezra was alone. They dared not assume that phone conversation would be safe, and given that he was living above the shop, they couldn't easily contact him casually on the street.

They'd been able to arrange to update him by a far to brief message Nathan delivered when Ezra came over for breakfast. The diner was short handed that morning, so Nathan took advantage of the chance to deliver the meal to the table.

"Two eggs over easy, side of ham." he said, placing the plate down. As he did so, he knocked the napkin to the floor and bent to pick it up. "We got other agencies in the case, but we're on point for you Ez." he whispered quickly.

Ezra sat at the table in silence, appetite gone. Other agencies meant only one thing to him. The Bureau was involved. The sense of impending disaster almost overwhelmed him for a moment before he decided to get back on track. He toyed with the food on his plate and forced himself to put on the appearance of normalcy for anyone who might be watching. A few moments later he tossed some bills on the table and headed back to the pawn shop.

Nathan called Chris' cell the first chance he had. "He kept his cool, but he knows exactly what's going on Chris. I thought he was going to pass out for a second, but I don't think anybody who wasn't right up close would have noticed it."

"You think he's still OK with this?"

"He'll deal with it. We're too close to the end not to see it through. I'm betting he needs to see it through."

The Bureau had their own surveillance set up in cheap motel room a few doors down from the diner. Chris circled the block a few times, making sure no one was aware of his presence before making his way to the room. Once inside he ignored the two men monitoring the bugging devices and went directly to the supervisor.

"He knows you guys are out here."

"Why the hell did you tip him off?"

"Tip him off? You do remember he's on our side – right?"

"That's the theory."

Chris glared at the arrogant agent. "Not theory – fact. And if you don't know that to be true I want you outta here now. Won't have you putting him at risk."

"You don't get to order me anywhere Larabee. In case you have forgotten, we aren't even on the same force."

"No shit – I'm not even sure we're on the same side. What I do know is we had our man in there first, and he is closer than any of you to bringing down these guys. So, you play by our rules or I will find a way to get you off this street before sunset."

"You may have Judge Travis on your side, but I am pretty sure our regional bureau head trumps him, so don't push things with me. FBI outranks ATF and I am not about to let you guys hog all the credit when this goes down."

"Are you insane? I don't give a rat's ass about credit. I want the guns off the street and my agent home safe and sound at the end of this. You want cameras and sound-bites you are welcome to them." Any further comment he was going to make was cut off by shouts coming through his com link.

"Shit Chris, we got trouble. Shooters! Get down!"

Buck hadn't finished his warning before a spray of machine gun fire ripped through the window of the pawn shop, accompanied by the squealing brakes of the SUV driving by. The shooting was over in seconds and silence hung in the air.

The door of the diner slammed back into the wall as Nathan flew across the street. Buck and JD were close behind, and Chris spotted Josiah coming from the alley as he left the hotel room. He had no doubt Vin wasn't far behind.

"Ezra – Ezra, where are you?" Nathan pulled up short as he entered the shop. Broken merchandize covered the floor and counters, blown off the shelves by the rapid-fire shots. Glass littered every surface as well, from the window and cabinets. "Damn it, Ezra?"

"Ho-ly Shit – what a mess."

"I believe that is what is commonly referred to as a gross understatement Mr. Wilmington." They let out a collective sigh of relief as they turned to see Ezra kneeling on the floor. He'd been turning the "Open" sign on when he saw the SUV swerve toward the building. Instinct more that observation had him diving for cover, but not before the window shattered in front of him. Their relief faded when they got a better look at him. Blood was marking his face from several small cuts courtesy of the splintered glass. A longer cut, bleeding more heavily, graced the side of his neck. More red smears stained his shirt as the wounds bled out. Most disturbing was the sizable shard of glass imbedded in his right forearm.

"Damn Ezra – that looks painful."

"Again, your gift for understatement shines through Mr. Wilmington." He turned as more bodies came through the door. "Welcome to my nightmare Mr. Larabee. I am assuming from this demonstration that all pretense of undercover work has been abandoned?"

"How bad's he hurt Nathan?"

Ezra was surprisingly not fighting the healer in his effort to examine the injuries. After a moment, Nathan smiled in relief. "Gonna take a box or two of bandages to fix him up, but nothing looks too bad. He pointed at the shard in Ezra arm. "Even this isn't really all that deep. It got deflected by –" he paused, noticing the FBI agents who had followed Chris to the scene. "It got deflected." No need to mention Ezra's secret weapon to anyone in the bureau.

"Come on Ezra – can you stand up?"

"Of course. As you indicated, I am not injured."

"Didn't say that. Said it wasn't bad. We've got a kit in the van. I'm gonna get you patched up." He started to guide Ezra out of the building, only to be blocked by the lead FBI agent.

"Not so fast. He's staying right here until we're done with him."

"You're done with him now." Chris, Buck and Josiah all moved in to form a new blockade around their teammate.

"He's got things to answer for, and he stays here."

"There is no need to turn this into a duel gentlemen. I am quite content to respond to any demands Agent Summers has." Chris turned his head in surprise. "Oh, did he omit the information concerning our mutual history? That we have worked together in the past? Allow me to elucidate. On my last job with the bureau, Agent Summers was in charge of my back-up support team."

Chris turned with a glare that would turn lava to ice. "You were the son of a bitch who let him get beaten half to death?"

"Nobody 'let' anything happen to Standish except Standish. Wasn't our fault there was a falling out between the partners in crime."

The wall around their teammate shifted, each man taking a step toward the agent who was about to become their punching bag. Before any action good happen, Ezra let out a soft moan as he knees buckled and he began to fall. In a flash, Josiah turned and caught him, with Buck carefully reaching for the injured arm. Ezra looked up, and knew instantly Chris saw through the diversion, but seemed to accept it in the intended spirit.

"My apologies gentlemen. Perhaps if I could sit for a moment I would be better able to respond to your accusations. Oh, forgive me. Your questions."

"You're not saying anything to this guy." Chris looked to Nathan. "Take him to the van and fix him up. If you think he needs it, take him to the hospital. He says nothing to anyone outside of us without some kind of legal rep with him. Understood?"

Ezra paled slightly at the notion Chris thought he needed legal council, and hoped anyone who noticed that fact would attribute it to the injuries. Chris knew better.

"Relax Ezra. Just want to be sure this bastard doesn't try to put anything over on anyone. Go – let Nathan take care of you."

Vin was waiting at the van, first aid kit already laid out. He helped Ezra get settled back into a seat, draping a blanket over his shoulders. When he shrugged it off, Vin simply repositioned it. "You may not feel it right now, but in a few minutes when the adrenalin fades you're likely to get a bit shocky. Trust me, this will help." Deciding he had neither the energy nor inclination to argue any further, Ezra settled back and closed his eyes, allowing Nathan to do his job. Aside from the occasional wince as antiseptic was applied to the cuts, he was silent. Even when the larger piece of glass was removed there was no reaction. As his arm was being wrapped, Ezra did open his eyes.

"I should express my appreciation for your discretion regarding the existence of my preferred protection Mr. Jackson. I can assure you from experience the FBI does not condone the use of my derringer, let alone the spring loaded holster."

"Didn't expect they appreciate the finer things."

Vin was looking at the rigging. "That is a right pretty gadget. Read about them, but never saw one before. Mind if I ask where you found it?"

"It was custom made for me. Family folklore had it that a similar item was used by an ancestor in what is generally referred to as the old west. I designed it based on stories I heard when I was much younger."

Vin nodded, trying to keep the smile from his face. Ezra had actually volunteered a little bit of his history. It was a small detail, but it was the first crack in the surface they'd seen since the night at the ranch.

"OK Ezra, do me a favour and just stay put for a few minutes." Nathan had finished with his patching. "You leave the van and the FBI is gonna want to talk to you, and then Chris and Buck and probably the rest of us are gonna try to stop them, and before you know it I'll be fixing up black eyes and bruised knuckles. So please, just stay put."

Ezra couldn't envision a battle taking place to protect him, but leaving the comfort of the van was the last thing he felt like doing, so he nodded agreement. The two men left him alone to rest. He watched as they joined the others, all walking toward the FBI motel room.

He could only imagine the ongoing conversation, as he watched the door close. Sadly, he had a vivid imagination. Summers would be filling them in on all the questions and suspicions that led to his departure. He'd be wondering why Ezra was in a position to not be badly hurt during the drive by shooting. "Could it be," he'd suggest, "that Standish knew this was coming? This was all a way to end the operation." He'd likely voice his curiosity over how big the bribes were. Ezra started calculating how long he would have before being dismissed from the ATF.

He turned his head away from the view, not wanting to stare at the closed door any longer. That was when he noticed the fluctuations on the recording monitor in the van. Someone in that room had an open con. He debated with himself so briefly that it really didn't count. He leaned over and turned up the speaker, in time to hear Summers.

"…could not believe it was true when they said ATF had fallen for his line of bull. And then to find out you of all people been the guy to hire him. Travis."

That surprised Ezra. When had Judge Travis arrived on the scene? Must have been while he was getting cleaned up. He recalculated his remaining time with the ATF. It could likely be counted in minutes instead of days if the Judge had come down to see this all first hand. He brought his attention back to the discussion.

"That's JUDGE Travis to you Summers, or I'll have you facing a board of enquiry for insubordination. I have to say, it is reassuring to have my opinion of you confirmed. I remember a few occasions when you testified while I was still on the bench. Thought more than once that it was a good thing there was strong evidence in the case, because you clearly didn't know what you were talking about. Obviously, that hasn't changed."

A loud chortle could be heard, clearly coming from Buck. The volume of it told Ezra whose com device had been left open.

Summers voice went very cold. "He's a liar, a con man and crooked cop. Just because we couldn't get the admissible evidence doesn't make it any less true."

"Stand down Larabee -all of you. Any of you hit him and I'll have three weeks worth of paperwork to deal with. This idiot is not worth that much trouble. I mean it Chris, Buck – back off."

Vin's voice came next. "Ezra's twice the agent just about anyone else in the bureau can claim to be, and you were all to damn jealous to realize what an asset you had."

"He's been with our team barely 8 months and in that time we've had four major busts – all solid. He's saved my neck, and JD's and on top of those commendations he's got three other meritorious service notations. Hell, he'd have a couple of medals if I didn't think the attention would scare him off."

Ezra sat still, stunned by what he was hearing.

"He really has got you all snowed, doesn't he? Well you just keep on living your fantasy. The man can't be trusted, and what happened a few minutes ago proves it. No way he should have gotten through something like that alive. He had to know it was coming."

"He knew it was coming because he knows his job. He reads people and situations like you read the morning comics, only his lips don't move." JD rose to the defense. Once again, Buck's snorting laugh could be heard.

"He's got razor-sharp reactions and the most refined instincts I've ever seen." Josiah added. "You people are fools."

"Clearly we are not fools – we haven't been taken in by…"

Ezra could hear the sounds of a skirmish, but it didn't sound like any punches actually flew.

"Chris, either sit down or step out. The Judge was right. You are the team leader and you can't be hitting an FBI agent." Buck as the voice of reason? Will wonders never cease? "I, on other hand, am a lowly, hot-headed cowboy with no such restriction. JD, let go of me."

"Everybody sit down and shut up." Chris may have listened to the first part of the Judge's order, but he was ignoring the second one.

"That man outside is one of the best lawman to ever pick up a badge. And yes, if he wanted to, he would be the one of the smartest criminals we'd ever come up against. The fact that despite his background, despite what he's been through, and most especially despite what you bastards did to him, he still chooses to pick up that badge every day speaks volumes to the character of the man. I would take one Ezra Standish over 50 of you any day of the week. If I ever hear of you messing with him, threatening him or bad mouthing him again, there will not be a force on earth that stops me from coming after you."

"Stops us." Vin corrected.

"Right. Are we clear on that? Any questions? Good. Judge, you'll have our preliminary reports by the end of the day."

Ezra reached over and turned down the speaker after Chris's last words. He moved back to his seat and again closed his eyes, fighting to regain his composure before the van door opened.

"How you doing so-" Josiah cut himself off – "Ezra?" Feeling ok?"

Ezra opened his eyes and turned quickly. "Mr. Sanchez. Forgive me, I must have dozed off. You were quite correct Mr. Tanner. Once the momentum of the moment faded I found it difficult to stay awake."

Chris could see the stress on the man's face. "Nathan will take you back to your place, unless you think you need to see a doctor."

"Hardly necessary. I simply require a bit of rest and I'll be fine. I shall retire to the comfort of home when my report is completed."

"You'll go home now and work up your report tomorrow, or after the weekend if you need more rest. Nathan, take him home."

 _ **tbc**_

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7


	5. Chapter 5

It was late on Friday afternoon when Ezra had finished the report to his satisfaction. His concentration was broken repeatedly by recollections of the conversation he'd heard the day before. It had kept him awake most of the night as well. Never, in his life, had anyone ever spoken about him in that ways. The words, the passion, the belief. He was having an inordinate amount of trouble processing the event.

From JD all the way up to the Judge, all had defended him, his record and his actions. He'd had commendations put in his file? That was a first. Past files had been full as well, but the documentation was far less flattering. And the fact that at least two of the men had been ready to actually assault Summers – well it all stretched even his understanding of human nature.

What truly confounded him was the fact that he knew they had no idea he'd been listening. None of this had been done merely for his benefit. Every word and emotion was pure. He shook his head at the notion.

"You OK over there Ezra? Being awfully quiet today."

"Merely trying to focus on the task at hand Mr. Dunne. Any effort that ends as tumultuously as did this mission presents certain problems when one is trying to prepare a report that still reflects well on the participants. I am, however, quite certain I have achieved that goal."

"That your way of saying your done? 'Cause if so that means we're done for the day." Buck looked hopefully at the clock. "Right Chris?" He had a date lined up with a lady he'd been worshiping from afar for weeks, and he was more than a little eager to be out of there.

"Give me 10 minutes to look these over and I'll let you know." He went back to his office and opened the report files on his computer. He kept half his attention on the conversation outside.

Ezra scanned the room, debating with himself over his next course of action. The men were in various stages of preparing to leave for the night. There had been no mention of a get together this evening. Not unheard of – they didn't gather every Friday, only most of them. This would have been so much easier if someone else had opened the door, but that hadn't happened, and time was running out. Ezra didn't think he would ever have a better opportunity to make his move, and he had the distinct feeling that if he didn't take that leap, he would never have the chance to stop seeing the team as 'them' and start seeing it as 'us'.

"Would I be safe in my assumption you gentlemen have intriguing plans for the evening, and indeed the weekend ahead?" They were all surprised by the fact Ezra had initiated the conversation.

"Well, I'm not so sure intriguing is the word I'd use." Josiah was the first to find his voice.

"I was looking at a quiet night ahead. Kind of stressful week so doing nothing special seemed like a plan." Vin added, wondering if Ezra was headed somewhere with this, and hoping he was.

Buck looked at Ezra out of the corner of his eye while trying to look otherwise occupied. He wanted to believe he wasn't imagining the slight yearning tone the southerner used. "I've got an unexpectedly dull night ahead," he lied. "My planned company for the evening notified me a little while ago she'd be unavailable. Terribly disappointing – for her."

Nathan added his comment. "Well, Raine is working tonight, and after two weeks in that diner kitchen the only thing I want to do is go somewhere I don't have to make anything."

When JD shrugged a noncommittal response, Ezra took a deep breath. "I was wondering, then, if you are all free, if you might want to join me for a drink?"

Chris almost leapt for joy out of his seat. He thought he was going to have to slap himself to be able to put on a neutral face as he rose and stepped out of the office.

"Too tired to figure out all this stuff now. I'll look it over in the morning. Now, did I hear correctly Ezra? Are you suggesting we head out for a drink?"

"If it doesn't interfere with anyone's calendar."

"You have anyplace in mind?"

"Well, given the fact Mr. Jac-", he paused and swallowed, his mouth going dry from unexpected nervousness. "Nathan indicated he was planning on dining out, I thought Inez's tavern might be a viable option. My understanding from JD is that they offer a palatable menu."

Despite their efforts to disguise the reaction, Ezra couldn't help notice the glances each time he used a first name. No one was commenting, or objecting.

"Ezra?"

"Yes Buck?"

The man grinned. "Since you did the inviting, can I assume you'll be doing the buying?" He ducked when JD threw a pad of paper at him.

"I believe my finances would allow me to cover the first round. Perhaps even a second as well."

"Nah, one is fine. Buck will be buying the second." Chris smiled, reaching for his jacket and ignoring Buck's groan. "Gentlemen, let's lock up for the night."

The conversation at the table was stilted at first. Once drink orders had been placed there were a few moments of awkward silence. Ezra finally couldn't take it any longer.

"So, Mr. – Chris. Are you anticipating any difficulties in dealing with the fallout from this week's disaster?"

Work was usually avoided on Friday nights, but Chris was grateful for any topic, and if Ezra needed a bit of reassurance, now was as good a time as any. "Nothing we can't handle. There could have been a lot of reasons for that drive by, including the highly probable notion that competing gun dealers wanted you gone. Until we find the shooters we can't know anything for sure. Local cops are working the case like any other drive-by for the moment. And FBI had been ordered to keep out of it for now."

Vin leaned back in his seat, watching for the reaction to what he was about to say. "If there was some kind of a leak at the Bureau we'll make sure it's found out and taken care of." Ezra reacted exactly as expected. His eyes widened slightly, which was the only outward sign of surprise. He sipped casually on his brandy before commenting.

"At the Bureau? Why would you assume that to be the source?"

"Simple. On our side of the operation the only ones who knew enough to say anything crucial are the judge and the seven men sitting at this table. I for one don't believe it could have been Judge Travis, so it had to be the FBI."

"Where as far as they are convinced, I am quite certain, the guilty party sits here in your midst."

"Yeah?" JD looked squarely at Ezra. "Well then they are full of shit."

"Eloquently phrased JD." The young agent smiled at the fact Ezra looked pleased.

"Look, Ezra. Bottom line here is that we are going to find what's going on, and anybody who messes with any one person on this team messes with the whole team. And we don't take kindly to that."

Ezra had a great deal of trouble accepting the unconditional support, but knew further questioning of it would not be appreciated or appropriate at this point. Instead, he continued to sip quietly at his drink.

Buck decided it was time to change the subject. "So Chris – what ever happened with that stubborn horse of yours?"

"Chaucer? I've pretty much given up on him. He won't let anyone ride him. Tried everything I know but for whatever reason he doesn't seem to trust me – or anyone else."

"What are you gonna do with him." JD wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Relax kid. He's not going to a glue factory. I'll just pasture him."

"Don't seem right – I've seen the horse. He'd look something special being ridden. Seems like he deserves more."

"Would it be possible for me to come out to see this Chaucer of yours?"

Chris clenched his jaw to keep from shouting out a Hallelujah. Ezra had not only agreed to come out to the ranch, but was actually inviting himself. Seeing the tightening on Larabee's face, Ezra leapt to the wrong conclusion.

"I do not mean to inconvenience you, and certainly did not intend to intrude on any weekend activity you might have planned. I assure you I wouldn't stay more than a few minutes. You won't even be aware of my presence."

"Easy there Pard, slow down." Vin reached out and put a calming hand on Ezra's arm, earning a flinch as he'd forgotten about the wound from the day before. Ezra pulled back, almost tipping his chair in the process. He fought the panic that was starting to build. He'd misjudged this. He'd moved too fast and overstepped his position. As was his habit, he'd blown it.

"Please, forget I even suggested it Mr. Larabee. Clearly I have misread the situation."

"The only thing you misread Ezra was me just now. And that's my fault. The only reason I didn't shout out a yes was that I didn't want to scare you off. Course you can come and look. And we expect you'll be staying for dinner. Josiah's gonna be doing up a roasted pig on a spit and there is always more than enough food to go around. Now mind you, there is one condition."

Ezra calmed himself, ready for whatever sanctions or requirements would be placed on him.

"You have got to forget about this Mister crap. Kinda liked hearing our names with that southern flair of yours, and really don't want to give it up. Understood."

Ezra looked around the table. They really mean it, he thought. They want me out there. It was a strange sensation, this emotional acceptance. He wasn't at all certain he knew how to deal with it, having never experienced it before. But he was certain of one thing. He need to try. He put on his best charm school smile.

"I will concede to that demand provided you, in turn, accept my condition." Chris looked questioningly at him. There was very little Ezra could ask right now that would be refused, but he was afraid with the track record they had in place that may well have to happen.

"I would very much appreciate the opportunity to return the kindness." He was greeted by silence as the team was unsure exactly where this was heading. "I would expect, on a future Saturday evening, to entertain you gentlemen at my home."

Buck was ready to laugh until a swift kick under the table silenced him. He took a second look and saw the anxiousness in Ezra's eyes. For a man so practiced at keeping his emotions in check he was now letting himself be read.

"Ez – that's right nice of you. But, and don't take this the wrong way – where are we all gonna sit?"

"I have given that some consideration, and have been investigating the purchase of some supplementary items. I believe I have sufficient space to expand my furnishings."

"Well, as much as the thought is appreciated, it's really not necessary." Chris answered. He held up his hand before Ezra could object, but it was Josiah who spoke. "Ezra, think about it. You don't miss much, so you have to have noticed we all go out to the ranch when we get together like this. We do take turns about running the show – what we eat, what we do. But it's always there. Ain't like we don't have our own places, but the ranch – well that's just sort of our common ground."

"Thing is Ezra," Vin took over, "it's where we can all kind of forget about the rest of our lives a bit. Makes us feel, I don't know, at peace I guess. Maybe we're all just cowboys at heart. Sorry Chris." He grinned and leaned toward Ezra, stating in a stage whisper, "He really hates being called a cowboy."

"It allows you to exist in a world that releases you from the confines of your world. An escape from the unpleasantness of daily reality." They nodded, relieved to see the understanding. "I have, on occasion sought such relief myself. Although I must confess that the role of cowboy has never factored into my considerations."

"Why do I not find that hard to believe." Nathan laughed. "You must be some kind of wealthy socialite. No, more a Rhett Butler kind of guy."

"That would be closer, but I tend to draw on what I know of my heritage. A southern gentleman most assuredly. But more likely a riverboat gambler or similar reprobate. Possibly, to fit into your scenario, one who has headed west to expand his horizon's…find new ventures upon which to capitalize. New marks to take."

"Or maybe," JD speculated, "to get a clean start on things." There was a moment of silence when Ezra turned his eyes downward, then relief when he looked up smiling.

"I suppose that too might be a possibility."

"So, you with us tomorrow Ezra? This compromise acceptable? Vin's cooking next week, but you can be the man in charge the next time around."

"Yes Chris, it is a most acceptable option. Of course, now I am left with the issue of what to do with my new furnishings. I suppose the table and chairs can be returned."

"You got yourself some dining room stuff? You should keep it. Your place is a little under done at the moment."

"While I appreciate your decorating advice Buck, I think I shall rely on other sources for any future suggestions. I have heard the commentaries on the status of your home."

Buck pretended to be offended. "My place reflects my nature."

Vin agreed – "Yup. Milk cartons for shelves, laundry on the chairs, posters on the wall. Very early teenager." He got a soft punch on the arm for his support.

"To expand Buck, it was not a dining table that I had purchased, but rather a card table."

"One of those folding things? Well that shouldn't be an issue. Hell, bring it to Chris' place. We can always use an extra one. His is a mite worn out anyway."

"No, not a 'folding thing'." Ezra shuddered slightly at the thought. "This is antique casino caliber poker table. Solid oak. Can seat eight players, felt covered, glass holders, dealer's spot, chip trays. Co-ordinated chairs."

"Whooee, now that sounds special." Buck admitted. "Puts that plywood thing of yours to shame Chris."

"Mine does the job. But yeah – that sounds nice Ezra. You should keep it, if you wanted it in the first place. Sounds like you enjoy an evening of poker."

"Dare I presume from what has been said, that games of chance are a frequent occurrence at the ranch?"

"We've been known to have few hands."

They watched as Ezra quickly developed a plan in his mind. "I am a man of many diverse and unique talents, but I must concede that epicurean expertise does not feature high on that list." At the somewhat confused faces, he edited himself. "I'm not much of a cook."

"We don't do fancy Ezra."

"I could," he continued, "have my duties catered, but I do have a counter proposal. If it is acceptable to all of you, I will have the table delivered to the ranch. From what you have described, it would be an improvement to the current facilities, and all would benefit from its presence."

"That's damn generous of you Son." "Shit Ezra, that's too much." "You'd don't have to do that Pard."

Chris held up his hand, silencing the table. "That sounds like a pretty special item you got yourself. You sure you want to do this?" Ezra nodded, and Chris did the same. "OK – I won't fight you. And thanks. It will definitely add a touch of class to the evening." He could sense Ezra relief at the simple acceptance.

"Gentlemen, are these events friendly games?"

"Well they've never ended in fights if that's what you mean Ezra." JD answered, puzzled.

"He means are the cash or just chips." Nathan supplied. "And to answer you, there has been occasion where money has changed hands. Usually all comes out pretty even, although Chris and Vin tend to come out ahead a bit more often. JD's a bit too eager, Buck can be easily distracted and Josiah – well he just doesn't seem to have his heart in it most of the time. I'm not much of a gambler, so I fold more often than not."

"You do realize that you are giving away all of our secrets Nathan." Buck growled.

Nathan shook his head. "Seriously Buck? Look at the man. He's been sizing you – all of us up – from the minute he joined in. He just spent – what, easily several grand? – on a poker table. His idea of escape is envisioning himself as a riverboat gambler. You honestly think for an instant I said anything he hadn't figured out. Or wouldn't have known after the first hand."

Buck leaned back and sized up the now smiling southerner. Ezra looked genuinely relaxed for the first time in ages. Hell, for the first time since they'd known him. "Chris – I think we have made a serious error in judgement here. Not one of us going to have our pay-cheques left by the end of the weekend."

"Don't be absurd Buck. I would never relieve a friend of all of his cash on the first evening we sat at a card table." 'Friend' and 'first' in the same sentence, Chris thought. This is working out better than he'd dared to hope for. "No, I shall restrain my basic instinct until an evening when we have large overtime bonuses on those cheques." He grinned widely, and the men were certain they saw a glint of light reflect off his gold tooth. Despite what was just said, this was going to be a costly weekend. And worth every penny.

 ** _The End (as always - for now)_**

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7


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